October

Not a drop to drink

First, I apologize as this is a few days delayed. Second, I apologize as this story is a bit longer that the others, as the journey behind it was a bit longer. As you may have read in the August update, I went to Utah last fall to observe an annular solar eclipse. I viewed the eclipse in the southern end of Capitol Reef National Park, and  while the event did not have have the momentous impact of a total eclipse, the journey itself introduced me to the Burr trail and the Water Pocket Fold which are amazing discoveries that I feel foolish to not have known about earlier.  I'm so glad my trip planning brought me there, however most of my time planning for the trip went into finding a location to observe the eclipse and what gear to bring. I did almost no planning for what I was going to do after the eclipse, so I drove (the very scenic route) back to Escalante and figured it out over a beer and pizza.

Escalante is a town I visited two years earlier and is the launching point for Hole in the Rock Road, my favorite discovery of that previous trip. I wanted to explore more of the that area so I went onto AllTrails and found an intriguing 7 mile hike that had almost no information, only 2 reviews, and no pictures...but the reviews said the view was worth it so I decided to give it a shot. I camped under a beautiful clear sky, and did the responsible thing and drove back to Escalante to talk with a ranger the next morning to ask about the hike. Turns out reading those 2 reviews had already made me more knowledgeable about the hike than the ranger. He gave me some backcountry advice, but knew nothing of the trail. On the way down, I did stop and hike through some slot canyons because I had a little extra time (I thought) but luckily I bailed early because there were a few more people than I wanted in the slots (only takes a few to create a traffic jam when the path is a foot or two wide).

The trailhead was several hours down Hole in the Rock road, which is a dirt road that goes 60 miles into the wilderness of Utah. There were, surprisingly, 3 cars at the trailhead which made me a feel a little better about venturing into the wilderness by myself, hours away from help and cell coverage. However, the trailhead parking lot, which was really just some worn tire tracks off the road, was as far as the "trail" went. I discovered this pretty quickly once I started, then readjusted, then readjusted, then realized that there was no trail, simply the GPS coordinates of one person's hike a decade ago. I then realized that my phone battery life just became much more important and so I tried to memorize the map terrain and put my phone away.

The first mile of the trail was through open desert with small shrubs spaced every few feet. Once I accepted I had no trail and was simply focused on walking, I became hyper aware that there could be a venomous snake hiding under any one of the shrubs I was going past. After a minute of tentative walking, I decided to accept that possibility and started hiking at a steady pace as I wanted to finish before dark. The terrain gradually became less sandy as solid rock underneath become more exposed, with larger rock outcroppings beginning to pop up. At one point I looked up to see a pack of Desert Bighorn Sheep staring down on me like the Medjai in the Mummy. I tried to stay on rock as much as possible to avoid walking by a hidden snake and because the sand was slower and more draining, especially in the heat of the fully exposed sun.

Once every 15 minutes I would check my my route, I was always too far south, so I tried to angle my path left, to catch back up to the original GPS route. Despite trying go left, I was always walking parallel when I checked. After a few times, I gave up and decided that I was fine to be 1/4 to 1/2 mile off as long as I was going in the right direction. Especially since this allowed me the ability to chose the easiest path forward. At some point along the way I realized that if I was "off trail" and something happened to me, I would probably be a lot harder to find. And if there were other people out of this trail, I could easily never see them. It was at that moment I rounded a rock to find a dog and woman sitting the in shade. I think everyone had a small jump scare.

She and I talked for a little bit and her plan was to try and get down into a canyon, inflate a raft that she was carry along with her pack, and do a raftpacking adventure. She was also enticed by the limited but good reviews of the trail, but had expected there to be pools of water for her to filter, but so far she had not found any, nor had I seen any. She was planning on turning around given the amount of water she had left and considering the heat and exposure, I think she made the correct and responsible call. I would have given her some of my water but I did not have extra to spare since I was still planning on continuing on for miles and camping. However, this experience has made me carry additional water beyond my own needs on every hike since. The woman's name was Rachel and you can follow her travels on instagram @Sunnraayy.

After I said goodbye to Rachel and her cute dog, the terrain moved permanently from the desert landscape to solid rock. I could almost see the canyon I was hiking to in the distance but the wavy rocks meant that there could easily be an impassible cliff between me and my destination so I still tried to stay close to the GPS route. I had less than an hour to sunset and about 3 miles to go. Luckily, the terrain was easy slickrock and I was going slightly downhill. I did see a few more Bighorn Sheep which then unlocked a new fear of being headbutted off the side of a cliff. After some speed walking, and a bit of light jogging on some of the downhills, I finally arrived at the end of the route with about 10 minutes of light left. I was greeted with the view you see in the calendar. I immediately dropped my pack, pulled out my camera, and tried to balance the urgency of capturing the picture before the light left along with recognizing that I was tired and probably a bit dehydrated (as I really started to conserve water after my convo with Rachel) which meant I had to be extra careful not to make a fatal mistake on the edge of the cliff.

To give you a better sense of the scale, if you look at the cliff on the other side of the river in the center of the photo, the drop off is about 300 feet. Where I was taking the photo was about 250 ft up, and again I was on slick rock that curved downwards. I was extremely cautious and luckily did not have any scares. I took a few photos then scouted the area as best I could to find a flat spot to put my tent and have an area to move about without worrying about falling. I found a place with a great view, set up my tent, made some dinner, and had a beer. A beer that I didn't finish because I didn't want to dehydrate myself too much. The next morning I was treated to a spectacular sunrise that aligned with my view of the canyon perfectly. That picture will be in next year's calendar.